


You're Not the Boss of Me

by Musings_of_a_Monster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: I'm Sorry, Inspired By Tumblr, Other, References to Past Child Abuse, Short, deageing, disciplinary spanking of a child, non-disciplinary spanking of an adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musings_of_a_Monster/pseuds/Musings_of_a_Monster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Little Jack does not respect Brock's authority."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not the Boss of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Age of Accountability](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976522) by [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot). 



> Inspired by this post: http://musings-of-a-monster.tumblr.com/post/135054727547/rumlow-being-anyones-dad-is-the-best-thing-in-the  
> And, more loosely, Age of Accountability by Lauralot

Jack dunked a rubber ball into the pancake batter, causing the bowl to tip and fall top first off the counter. Jack’s eyes widened when it fell, and he flinched (ever so slightly) at the sound it made.  
Rumlow took a deep breath. He had a veritable legion (okay, thirteen) kids to feed. He did not have time for this. “Jack. Go to your room and wait for me.”  
“No!” Jack said, glaring.  
“I said: go. To. Your. Room,” Rumlow turned, and Jack’s defiant expression faltered for half a second.  
“No!” Jack repeated, also signing this time.  
Rumlow grabbed Jack’s hand and started marching him to the elevator. Jack literally drove his heels into the carpet.  
“No!” he tried yanking his hand away, “You’re not my dad! You can’t make me!”  
“Wanna bet, you little—” Rumlow stopped himself. It probably wasn’t okay to call a kid a little shit. To their face. He reached down and threw Jack over one shoulder. The kid howled and beat his fists into Rumlow’s back. They entered the elevator.  
By the time they got to the room designated as Jack’s (and three other boys’), Jack’s hitting was noticeably softer and slower. Seemed like he was wearing himself out. Good.  
Rumlow sat down and pulled Jack over his knee.  
“What are you doing?” Jack asked, “Let me go!”  
Rumlow grabbed the waistband of Jack’s pants, but the kid seized up, and Rumlow thought of how that humiliation had just been an unnecessarily cruel addition to the actual punishment when his (usually drunk as shit) father had beaten him. He pulled his hand away.  
“You get,” Rumlow had to think. He had a feeling that as-many-as-I-get-to-before-I-get-tired was poor parental form. Jack was what, eight now? “Fifty.” Was that fair? That sounded fair.  
“Fifty!?” Jack voice rose maybe a full octave. Okay, so fifty was too much. Um…  
“ _Fifteen_ ,” Rumlow recovered.  
“You wouldn’t _dare_ ,” Jack said.  
Rumlow gave him a sound smack.  
“Ah!” Jack cried, and Rumlow pulled it back for the next two.  
“Do you know what this is for?” Rumlow wanted to be sure Jack did actually know. Sometimes Rumlow hadn’t, and his father never bothered to explain.  
“I, um, t-the bowl?”  
Rumlow hesitated, “Nngh, not exactly. Though you shouldn’t have done that—”  
“It was an accident!” Jack said, “I didn’t mean to!”  
“Throwing your ball in the batter was an _accident_?” Rumlow asked with clear skepticism.  
“Uh,” Jack wriggled, but Rumlow held him fast, “I didn’t mean to knock it over…”  
“Yeah, and that’s why I’m not giving you a _harder_ spanking,” Rumlow gave Jack two more smacks. The boy hissed, but didn’t cry out. “The reason you’re getting a spanking is because you’re being insubordinate.”  
Jack tried to look at Rumlow, “What?”  
Right. Eight. “You refuse to respect me, and you cause trouble.”  
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, “I’ll be better.”  
“I know you will,” Rumlow said, smacking Jack another three times.  
“But I said I was sorry!” Jack protested.  
“And _I_ said you were getting fifteen spankings. And you are.” Rumlow managed to get another three in. Jack whimpered. “You’re almost done,” Rumlow said, “Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Alright, we’re done here.”  
Jack wiped surreptitiously at his eyes. The quiet was painfully awkward. Rumlow figured his best bet was to say the opposite of what _his_ dad had said to _him_ after an ass-beating. “Uh,” Jack flinched when Rumlow patted him on the back, which made Rumlow feel sick, “You took it like a man. I’m proud of you.” Rumlow helped Jack to his feet.  
Jack looked at Rumlow carefully. “Are you still mad at me?”  
“What? No, no. I’m not mad. Look, it’s over, okay? You fu—uh, messed up, you got yours, now it’s over. Done. We forget about it.  
“Now,” Rumlow asked, “don’t you want pancakes?”  
Jack nodded, and cautiously took Rumlow’s hand when they reached the elevator.

As soon as they got home after Tony’s adultification ray had slapped on a few decades, Jack got a dangerous look in his eye. He made his way over to the couch and asked Rumlow, “Do you remember when you beat my ass after I knocked over the pancake batter?”  
Rumlow put an index figure up, “You got spanked because you disrespected me. A lot.” The shorter man paused rather than join his partner on the couch. “Why?”  
“Just wanted to make sure you knew what this is for,” Jack seized Rumlow and pulled him down.  
The shock of being thrown over Jack’s lap made Rumlow a bit slow to process what was happening. The feeling of his pants and boxers being yanked down cleared his head well enough, though. “Wait.”  
Rumlow could hear the smile in Jack’s voice when he raised his hand and said, “Payback’s a bitch, Princess.”


End file.
